


Jam and Honey

by RedStarFiction



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 21:28:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5064874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedStarFiction/pseuds/RedStarFiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*Potential spoilers for people who have not read the books*</p><p>This is a story about Jamie and Willie during his time with the Dunsany's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jam and Honey

“BYE MAC!!”  
Willie shouted, waving one small hand over his shoulder as he was led off to have his dinner.  
“Bye!”  
Jamie called back, waving from the stable door. He stood and watched until he was certain that Willie was happily engaged in conversation with his aunt and not liable to turn back, then he stepped back into the stables and allowed himself four, long, steadying breaths.  
His chest felt tight as it so often did just after Willie left his company, the familiar swell of pride, shame, love and sorrow that would reduce him to sobs if he let it.  
“Stop it.”  
He whispered and shook himself like a wet dog, striding the length of the stable and back again to calm his nerves but today it was no use. His legs were trembling and his hands seemed certain to join them.  
“Ifrinn!”  
He slammed his fist into the nearest stall door and the horse within whinnied in protest to the noise.  
“Duilich mo charaid.”  
He apologised and rubbed his hands hard over his face.  
“Gu leòr dhe sin, Seamus.”  
He heard his mother's voice in his head as clearly as he had the first time she instructed him to stop such behaviour, as a wee lad of six or seven having a fit of temper over something Jenny had said to him. Claire had once told him that hearing familiar voices in times of distress was the minds way of coping when it was overloaded and he knew that his mind would not settle if he remained still.  
Taking his cap and the tattered, ill fitting coat he had been given as the weather turned cold, he marched out of the stable, heading for the steepest hill he could find. The weather was turning, skies grey and heavy as far as he could see and the wind was picking up. Jamie pulled his cap low over his ears and pressed on.  
The grass under his boots as he reached the desired hill was wet and slippery and he lost his balance more than once, his hands sinking into the mud as he steadied himself, but he persisted, wiping them off on his breeks. He felt driven by a need to exhaust himself and temporarily squash the unbearable ache in his heart with aches in his body that would heal quickly enough. Sweat soaked his shirt and chilled his chest as the wind whipped around him and him smiled grimly as his fingers began to go numb.  
*Aye, good. Get yesel' frozen to death ye bastard and may it serve ye right!*  
He thought viciously, kicking at a clump of gorse nearby. The movement almost unbalanced him again but he stamped his foot down and continued upwards. His breath burned in his chest and his nose streamed but he didn't care. He didn't care about any of it.  
Suddenly the clouds parted and warm rays of sunlight softened the chill in his back, reminding him almost painfully of his wifes touch.  
“Claire.”  
He breathed her name, softly. It was such a pleasure, speaking her name aloud, and one that he so rarely allowed himself that he felt momentarily dizzy. The image of her face came to him then, so clear that he almost reached out to touch her. Her eyes, whiskey and fire, danced with mirth and her lips curved into a knowing smile. She would not be pushed aside, not today.  
“Aye alrigh', Sassenach.”  
Jamie smiled to himself and with a sigh, he sat down on the cold ground, damp instantly soaking his breeks and chilling his arse, but he barely noticed.  
He was lost in memories of his wife; her hands covered in flour, delicate wrists concealed in a mountain of dough.  
Her legs folded beneath her like a nesting swan as she picked her wee herbs.  
Her head tipped back, wild hair cascading down her back, with eyes closed as she laughed, that deep, throaty, wicked laugh that scandalised the French ladies of court, but that Jamie could have listened to all day.  
The way she looked at him before scolding him for some foolishness, a small line between her delicate eyebrows.  
The way she kissed him softly before falling asleep in his arms.  
He allowed the tears to flow freely down his face and the sobs to shake his shoulders, his chest heaving with the weight of his loss.  
“Oh Claire. I hope ye're happy my Sassenach. Happy and safe.”  
He wept and buried his face in his hands, utterly exhausted.  
The crystal clear images of memory softened and melded into something new, something he had forbidden himself from having in waking moments; images of Claire with a wee boy, his boy.  
The child was reading aloud from a book in a room Jamie had never seen before, and Claire was smiling to herself, nodding along with him and correcting him when he stumbled over a new word. He looked like Jamie but had that familiar wee line between his brows when his scowled and Jamie laughed out loud at the thought of it.  
The child, Brian, his name would be Brian, put the book down and stepped out of the unknown room and was suddenly in the kitchen at Lallybroch. Jamie watched curiously as he stood on one of the chairs, stealthily looking around before reaching for the jam jar, kept out of his reach in the same spot as Jamie's own mother had kept it.  
He handed it down to another wee lad Jamie had not noticed before. The smaller boy turned and Jamie saw Willie, clutching the jar carefully to his chest, chestnut hair spilling out of the neat club Claire must have bound it in. Brian took it from him and opened it, telling Willie to check and see if Da was still with the horses, Willie obligingly trotted to the door and peeking around it, confirmed that he could hear their father in the stable.  
“Here, quickly!”  
Brian held out a small piece of bread, smothered in the sweet jam to Willie who stuffed it whole into his mouth. The taste of strawberries flooded Jamie's senses and he jerked up-right, losing the image of the boys.  
He sat up, blinking in the weak sunlight. Had he been dreaming? No, the taste of strawberries was still on his tongue … then he remembered. Willie. Not his son but his brother. It had been he and Willie raiding the jam whilst their parents were distracted. Jamie could only have been four or five, allowed in on the plot to be look out for his older brother, the jam-thief.  
Smiling, he stood up. His breeks were heavy with wet and he shivered, he really would freeze if he stayed much longer.  
“Gu leòr dhe sin, Seamus.”  
He murmured softly to himself, picking his way back down the slippery slope, heading for the relative warmth of the stables.  
As he got to the base of the hill and his boots crunched on the gravel drive he heard a very familiar shout.  
“MAAAC!”  
The little boy was running towards him as fast as his little legs could manage and Jamie obligingly waited for him. Willie was red in the face and out of breath when he finally reached Jamie and instinctively lifted his arms demanding to be picked up.  
Jamie hesitated, glancing cautiously at Isobel who was walking towards them, a wee basket over her arm, but if she thought there was anything unusual about the young earl being so physically familiar with the convict groom she didn't let it show in her face.  
“Mac!”  
Willie demanded, impatiently stomping his foot and Jamie looked down at him. The boy was scowling at him, arms still raised, his brow furrowed.  
“Aye, alrigh' ye wee meaban!”  
Jamie smiled and lifted Willie easily, settling him on his hip. The boy was warm and solid, and Jamie was grateful for his presence.  
“He wanted to come and see you before bedtime.”  
Isobel offered apologetically and Jamie nodded  
“I see,”  
He fixed Willie with a stern look and poked a finger gently in the boys tummy, making him giggle  
“and did you ask nicely?”  
“Yes!”  
Willie nodded, arms wrapped tightly around Jamie's neck  
“and did ye thank your auntie for bringing ye?”  
Willie grinned guiltily and shook his head  
“Weel then...?”  
Jamie raised an eyebrow at him and Willie obligingly thanked Isobel, spontaneously blowing her a kiss that made both adults laugh.  
“Willie insisted we bring you some scones from supper.”  
Isobel said softly, offering Jamie the small basket she had been carrying and smiling at him to let him know it had not be a demand unwillingly met.  
Jamie took it gratefully and thanked them both.  
“I ate all the jam,”  
Willie explained, almost shyly for a child unused to feeling obliged to share  
“but we brought you some honey instead.”  
“Och that is verra kind of ye, and dinna fash about the jam,”  
Jamie smiled, putting Willie down.  
“I'm glad ye enjoyed it.”


End file.
